Kagome Kagome
by Laetitia or La
Summary: When Victoria shows Mary a song she covered, John's girlfriend's behavior towards her changes drastically. Eventually, she is driven to attempt to hang herself. A few years later, this all come to a head. Parentlock. OC Victoria Holmes-Watson and Margo Ruberich. Trigger Warning: Suicide attempt, mental illness.
1. World's End Dancehall

**_AN 1: Hi people. This is my first attempt on this account to write a multi-chapter fic. As always, I own nothing. Trigger warning: Victoria attempts suicide in this chapter, and I'm pretty explicit in my description. I know Mary's a bit of a bitch in this one, but I just wanted to experiment with that portrayal. I actually really like the character, just wish that she didn't exist. Sherlock might be a bit OOC, but that's because this is an AU where Sherlock was raising Victoria when John met him. John doesn't actually pity them, that's just Mary being manipulative._**

**_AN 2: The chapter of this title comes from the Vocaloid song World's End Dancehall by Luka and Miku. The title of the story comes from the Vocaloid song Kagome Kagome, also sung by Luka and Miku. I don't want ff. net to freak out on me, so you'll have to google them. Sorry. They're really good, but Kagome Kagome is in the horror genre, and the characters of WEDH kill themselves, so they aren't for everyone._**

Chapter 1: World's End Dancehall.

"Kagome, Kagome," I sang softly to myself. Circle you, circle you. A song based off a creepypasta that I'd covered, and that had ended up being the reason I was about to hang myself. "Kagome, Kagome," I'd shown her the song because I'd thought she'd like it. I'd started considering John my second dad a little while ago, and since he was dating Mary I wanted to see if I could extend my small definition of family to her. It was the first cover I'd ever made, and I'd spent a month working on the video and the audio.

Her reaction was the polar opposite of positive. Bad enough that she was completely freaked out by the song (it's about Nazis who experimented on young Japanese children, I know not a good song for a 14 year old to listen to, but it's really good, trust me on this), but it also seemed to cement in her mind that I was a freak, like my dad.

Before I showed her the song, I was ignored by her. I might as well have been a piece of furniture for all she cared. After, she made a point to be mean to me. I heard her say to a friend once that her reason was that she thought that I would get between her and John. Unlikely. While I could see that my two dads were very much in love, I am not one for matchmaking. Also, dad would have reacted badly to any attempts to convince him that John's reciprocation of his feelings was anything but projection on his part.

It started out as a small thing. She refused me to call me by name. My name is Victoria Holmes-Watson (well, actually just Holmes, but I started tacking the Watson on soon after John started living with us), but she'd call me "you," or "she" if referring to me in the third person.

It then progressed to that classic name bullies like to call members of the Holmes family, "Freak." I pretended to ignore this, but it hurt. Because when does being called a freak not hurt? But it wasn't any worse than I'd gotten at school, so I didn't react.

After John and Mary's relationship started splintering, as both dad and I had predicted but had been scared to state, she started verbally abusing me. Mary told me that John only stayed with dad because he thought that I was being abused, and that he pitied me for having a father like him. And since she'd also convinced John that we needed a break from him, I actually started to believe her.

I don't think she realized this, but us Holmes have a history of low self-esteem issues. My Uncle Mycroft has a disturbing combination of bulimia and anorexia that manifests itself whenever something bad happens at work, and my dad has a form of bipolar disorder that is the cause for his violent bouts of boredom or extreme spurts of agitation. I'm "lucky" in that I have textbook bipolar. Sort of. Because the depression is rare, but when it hits, it hits me bad. And when it hits I am utterly convinced that I am a worthless human being utterly devoid of any reason for existence, but also that I am completely unworthy of affection Which annoys Margo (my girlfriend) to no end, as she is constantly telling me that I am awesome.

So not only did this keep me from trying to split her and John up (unnecessary, as she was doing a good job of it herself, being a whiny clingy bitch) but it drove me into frequent bouts of depression. The kind of depression that makes it hard to get up out of bed in the morning.

Sherlock noticed and tried to help. Contrary to popular belief, he is an amazing dad. But I believed Mary, though I didn't tell anyone what she said, so I refused to let him tell John. I didn't want to be a burden on him, because I thought that it was my fault that John had picked Mary over Sherlock. Of course it had turned out to be because both my parents are dunderheads who can't recognize love until it bites them in the arse, but I didn't know this at the time.

The particular day I planned to hang my self was the Sunday following a bad week. John and Mary were gone on some sort of romantic vacation, and dad was away on a case. Being home alone wasn't what troubled me. John wouldn't answer any of my texts or emails, and the one time I called, Mary picked up and told me that John was getting annoyed at the calls and texts, which were, in his mind "interrupting his time with Mary."

As you can probably guess, this didn't exactly help my guilt, or my depression. So that day I woke up with the ambition to kill myself. I had a rope, since Sherlock had some for reasons I could not always understand, and there was a light fixture on the ceiling of the living room that I could tie it too.

I dragged a chair from the kitchen and brought it under the fixture, then got onto the chair and tied the rope into a noose, securing it so it wouldn't snap.

I put on the floor next to the chair a USB drive with "please open," written in sharpie on it. I'd put my cover of "World's End Dancehall" on it, and a short note apologizing for all the trouble I'd put John through, and an assurance that Sherlock wasn't abusive. Also a hope that the two of them could be happy together, after his relationship with Mary ran its course.

Then I stepped back onto the chair and carefully placed the noose around my neck. Closing my eyes, I kicked back against the chair, toppling it and placing all the weight around my neck. I heard footsteps, but I was convinced they were only my imagination, the firing of neurons in a dying brain. The choking sensation in my throat increased, and then there was only blackness.

**_AN: Please review! They are like cookies. I love them a lot._**


	2. Beautiful

**_AN: I still own nothing. I'd also like to give credit to my awesome friend who shall remain anon, who is doing the RP that has inspired this fic. Unbetaed. Song is Beautiful by Mariah Carrey. _**

Chapter 2: Beautiful

I regained the ability to hear first. Then my sense of smell, then taste, and finally touch. My eyes were shut, so I couldn't tell when I regained my sight. But I felt oddly disconnected, as if my body and my mind were two separate entities. _Is this heaven?_ I thought, thinking that if it was, it was a sore disappointment from the pearly gates one expected. Also, my throat felt sore. Wouldn't I have no pain if I were dead?

Then I noticed a steady beeping noise and the scent of antiseptic. The cloth I felt against my skin was thin and itchy. A hospital. I was in a hospital. Someone had found me and cut me down before I had asphyxiated completely. Apparently my weight wasn't great enough to cause my neck to snap.

My first emotion at this realization was disappointment. I had failed even at killing myself. Great. Just great. I pried my eyes open, sure that the only person who'd be there would be a nameless nurse and Margo, my girlfriend. So you can understand my surprise when I saw not only Margo, but Dad as well, the both of them sitting in decidedly uncomfortable looking hospital chairs.

"Vicky, don't you DARE ever do that to me again!" Margo nearly sobbed, throwing herself at me as soon as she noticed I was awake. Obviously she'd been pretty badly hurt by my attempted suicide, because she usually wasn't this huggy. I hugged her the best I could while lying on a hospital bed, one hand tethered by an IV.

"I share the sentiment. When I found you, I... I couldn't think," this statement gave me pause. My dad's always thinking, that's why he can't sleep very well, since he's incapable of shutting off his brain. To think that finding me near death made his mind skitter to a halt... well to be honest, it shocked me. At that point I didn't think that anyone really cared whether I lived or died. Mary's words had affected me more than I wanted to admit, even to myself.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes in shame. Had I really been that thoughtless, that selfish, to try to kill myself? My family wasn't that big, and it hurt that John apparently didn't care enough to come and visit me, but I had dad and I had Margo, which was nice.

"You don't have to apologize, girlfriend-of-mine," Margo whispered somewhere near my ear, since we were still hugging, "s'not your fault that the Monster got a hold of you." The Monster was the name she gave my depression. She claimed it was a beast, a Monster that took parts of me away.

My dad, who was sitting near the foot of the bed, looked up at me and said, "I fear you may have inherited the Holmes trait of mental illness. Or at the very least the Holmes trait of attracting bullies," he said ruefully.

I answered as Margo pulled herself off the bed, back to her chair. As she's a bit shorter than me, this took a great deal of shuffling around. "You found the USB."

"Yes. As I was waiting for the ambulance, I noticed near the chair," he pulled the flash drive out of a pocket and showed it to me. He gestured as if to give it to me, but I shook my head. Bad associations and all that.

At that moment I noticed that Margo looked like she's missed a good amount of sleep. Dad looked the same as normal, but was projecting more emotion than usual for him in public spaces.

"How long was I out?" I asked, looking at Sherlock for the answer.

"One day. They kept you sedated for fear you'd try to harm yourself," this made sense. Since, in retrospect, I hadn't really been thinking rationally at the time I attempted suicide, I wasn't sure how I'd react if I'd woken soon after. Though I don't remember dreaming in my drugged sleep, I'm sure my mind was able to sort itself out.

"Where's John?" I half-dreaded the answer, but I needed to know.

Margo suddenly looked murderous, and Sherlock just looked sad. "Mary picked up, and forced me not to tell him. She said that I was probably lying to try to drive them apart."

Thinking about John and Mary's vacation reminded me of something. I cursed myself and whatever drugs I was on for my mental slowness. "Margo, aren't you supposed to be going back to the States today?" I asked. If I'd been out for a day, and today was Monday, then she was supposed to be on a plain flying back.

"You think that I'd go with you trying to kill yourself? Ye of little faith." I laughed, happy that I had these two. If I'd woken up alone, I don't know how I would have reacted. My mood had rocketed back up again, but it might have stayed down if they hadn't been there. John's absence was a bit of a dampener, but other than that, I was happy. Of course, the drugs helped.

"Thank you for being here, dad, Margo-the-fantastic-girlfriend," my mood turned somber as I added, "I'm sorry you had to find me dad," turning to him. I hoped he'd forgive me for having to put him through that.

"I'm glad I found you Victoria. It would have been horrible to lose you. Do you really think that John and I will be together?" Ah yes, the other part of my note. Now to deal with dunderhead numero uno.

"Yes. Mary's driving her relationship into the ground. She's being a crazy clingy bitch, and the jealously likely won't help. Also John's head over heals in love with you. He's just scared of loving you, cause of the whole you know, he lost you once thing," I said, referring to his "suicide".

Oddly enough, we hadn't mentioned his false death until then. "Yes, I do hope he forgives me."

"Don't worry, dad, he already has. I could see that when you came back. He just needs time, as do you. You two dunderheads will be happy, mark my words," an odd conversation to have in a hospital room, after nearly killing myself, I know. It's not like my issues were over, it's just at the moment my mood was on the "happy" side of the pendulum swing. If you don't believe me, I can show you the scars that are issue of when it swings in the opposite direction. But at this point, that wasn't important. What was important was that two of the people closest to me had spent time with me.

"Word game?" I asked after a few seconds. If I was going to be bored in a hospital room for another 36 hours, I might as well do something to try to keep my mood on the happy side.

"Rhyming journeys?" Sherlock asked hopefully. That's one of the ones he's good at.

"Sure, as long as you don't use obscure Turkish villages that no one's heard of except you and the inhabitants."

"Fine," he said, annoyed.

"I won't use American towns no one's heard of," Margo promised, pouting.

"Oh, it's fine if you do it. You're fantastic. He's my dad."

**_AN: I give credit to my awesome friend, who helped me figure out the name for Victoria's girlfriend during our RP. A warning, there will be a timeskip between this chapter and the next. About three years or so._**


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